Immune
by ProudDyspraxicWriter
Summary: Goofy's wife was immune to everything but death. Oneshot.


Immune

The town of Spoonerville was especially quiet that night as the residents slept in their warm beds, dreaming of pleasant things with their loved ones nearby. The endless sky was as dark as charcoal with white splashes of paint twinkling furiously, lending the world their beauty. There was a cool, silent breeze that blew through the trees every now and again. Yes, that night was a beautiful one and even though Goofy was still wide awake to appreciate it, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything at all. His eyes transfixed to the driveway, he sat on the doorstep, waiting for his wife's safe return home. It had been a week since she left, shattering both Max's and Goofy's world completely.

That fateful day had been so normal that it seemed unreal. It didn't get off to a great start. Goofy had overslept again. Panicking as he always did when he was late for work, he ran out the house to his car, only to realise that he was still wearing his pyjamas. But Jeanette was so composed and calm. She woke up Max with a kiss and swiftly got him dressed and gave him his breakfast while she helped her dopey husband get his clothes together. With a kiss and a hug, Goofy rushed off to work before Jeanette drove Max to school. So, there Goofy was, happily getting everything done at the office, knowing he would come home to a bubbly son and a loving wife that evening, when he had the telephone call he never thought he'd receive. On the way to supermarket after dropping Max off, a reckless driver had smashed into Jeanette's car, almost killing her.

He sat with her in the hospital all through the night, hoping she would wake up from her comatose state, despite the doctors telling him over and over that there was very little chance. He didn't give up believing in her; he could never give up. She was Jeanette; just Jeanette. She was the one he fell in love with, the one who stayed with him through all the bad times, the one who gave him a wonderful son, the one who was immune to everything but…By the next morning, there was no change. Goofy's face, pale and drained, was stained with the tears that were streaming freely down his cheeks. Seeing her with all different sorts of wires stuck to her was something that couldn't be unseen. She looked so weak and sick, breaking Goofy's heart in two.

" I'm afraid, Mr. Goof," the doctor told him, " Jeanette isn't strong enough to get through this. You may need to prepare yourself…"

" What? Jean's so strong that…she's even stronger than _me_!" he snapped. " You doctors think you know everything!"

" Please, sir, calm down. If she is kept alive, she may end up with serious brain damage. You can't do that to her or your son, for that matter," he answered.

" But I love her," Goofy whispered, almost choking on his tears.

The doctor shrugged. " Sometimes that's just the kinder thing to do."

Looking back at Jeanette's ghostly white face, the dog man lowered his head and gave her hand a tight and loving squeeze, remembering the day they met at the Thanksgiving parade six years before. Imagining her smiling face in the middle of cheering crowd brought him the answer he needed. Letting out a sigh, he closed his eyes and muttered, " Turn it off. Turn it all off. I don't want her to suffer anymore."

Suddenly, there was a faint hysterical cry, breaking Goofy from his thoughts. Startled, he jumped up and went back inside to see Max, clutching Old Stuffed Bear close to his heart, screaming and crying for his dad.

" Had a bad dream, did ya, Junior?" he asked, using an affectionate nickname.

Max nodded his head, rubbing his eyes miserably. " I want Mommy!"

" I want her, too. C'mon, little guy. Let's get ya off to bed," he mumbled, scooping the little boy up in his arms.

" I want to sleep in your big bed!"

Goofy smiled sadly. " OK," he whispered.

The grieving father tucked the four year old in the vast double bed and soon Max fell fast asleep. Goofy laid his head on the soft, fluffy pillow and watched him for a few minutes. He smiled sadly to himself, thinking of the days when he had to babysit. He was usually very bad at it, even if it was just for a few hours, and he was always amazed at the fact that Jeanette was so good. He was about to do it for the rest of his life with no support and as any father would, he was terrified of messing it up. He hugged the pillow, catching a whiff of Jeanette's scent, realising that she was never going to come back. Cursing that stupid driver that killed her, he wept silent tears of pain all night.


End file.
